Obsidian Eagle's Blasphemous Bazaar - avant-garde poetics, indie publishing, nom-de-plume

Obsidian Eagle's

Blasphemous Bazaar


META-Poems For A New Millennium

<br>META-Poems For A New Millennium<br><br>

The Flagship of Anti-Poetry — est. 2010





Showing posts with label Psychology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Psychology. Show all posts

Pandemic Dream Theater

Pandemic Dream Theater


The one where you're walking through the park with some random C-list celebrity that you normally don't even think about. Yet here they are, explaining life's great mysteries to you (more or less in your own words), while pushing around a cart full crap like a homeless person.

Or perhaps you find yourself in what appears to be North Korea, where jets drop deafening bombs on the mountainside, which shoot up tall geysers of dust that hang in the air for almost a minute. Then the Grand Matriarch arrives with her retinue of ladies and proceeds to publicly humiliate you in front of your friends and fellow tourists. You can't understand a word they're saying — but their meaning is made quite clear by the lash of bamboo against your bare back!

Elsewhere at another time, you're hanging a painting in an atelier when lo and behold, a pesky ex with whom you haven't had sex in many years walks in. They just stand there with a smug expression, which you do your best to ignore as you finish what you're doing. However, when they're about to leave, you can't help asking: 

"Excuse me, but have you gotten taller?"

"No, but I have gotten a lot richer!"

Your family (who've been sitting off to the side on some sofas the whole time) finds this very amusing and laughs loudly at your predicament. So you follow your old flame out the door and soon discover that they're in the middle of filming a movie somewhere nearby. You get offered a bit-part, which you accept. But since you outshine the other starlets in the studio — the director kicks you off set! Next thing you know, you're in an alleyway smoking joints with another out of work actor and reminiscing about your short-lived cinematic career.

Finally, there's that dream you dare not speak of for fear it may come true... A chartered bus comes to your neighborhood at the crack of dawn. Everyone's confused regarding what's going on, but both you and your neighbors are effectively herded onto the Greyhound by military men in black tactical attire.

A little later, you're all led single-file into what looks to be a factory facility. During the shuffle, you end up budding in front of your closest neighbor. Once inside, it soon becomes evident that this is no ordinary warehouse. You can hear the industrial whir of metal in the distance, although it's coupled with bloodcurdling death cries. These unnerving sounds only get louder while everybody winds down the corridors of a concrete labyrinth. Your palms begin to sweat and your heart pounds because sure enough, as you round the penultimate corner, blood splatters against the wall!

There's no escape; the guards make sure of it. The poor sucker in front of you tries to run but gets thrown into the abattoir against his will. The noise is sickening. Knowing that your fate is sealed, you turn to your neighbor with a shit-eating grin on your face and ask:

"So, do you want your spot back?"

You shrug off the guards and voluntarily step forward (legs trembling) into the buzzing blades — white light engulfs your senses 


* WIDE AWAKE *

Ceci Ne Pas Un Poème...

Ceci Ne Pas Un Poème...


Non, non, c'est juste une mauvaise blague!

Tell you what though; lunkheads need not apply themselves to deciphering thoughts well beyond their base IQs. Better crack another cold one and watch the game instead.

Happy go lucky? Nah mate. Swindled voters cry all the way to the bank and back. Bellyaching about "fake news" and how the corporate media sold out. *SHOCKER*

When will the people outgrow those false dichotomies, which they claim to reject, yet cannot stop debating over in every comment section of all the social forums?

Forget progress — rather we're regressing into caveman tribalism. Manipulated by an invisible hand. Manus Lavat Manum. Divide Et Impera. Oldest tricks in the book. No need for conspiracies.

Enter orchestrated chaos, where not a single group can rally. What a 'flustercluck' of irreconcilable differences. Mankind surely shit the bed here on this planet. Mayhap The Matrix should reset?

Oui, oui, minuit viens vite ici!

Geekology

Geekology


Up to snuff on the canon
ever since the series' inception.

Watched a trio of films fashioned after
the literary trilogy, three times, in 3D
(but read every book years before cinematic debut).

Fanboy fawning over fiction
avidly awaits memorabilia and merchandise;
cultural baubles induce idolatrous fascination.

Raised by the capital
as another man-child filled with yearning
for a time that never was in fantasy lands.

"Did you see the new trailer?"
"OMG — its looks amazing!"
"Let's all go watch it on opening night..."

Real life is too boring anyway:
its bland narrative has become predictable.
Around here, there are no superheroes to save the day!

Satirical Infographic courtesy of Dorkly.

Spectre of The Spectacle

"Understood in its totality, the spectacle is both the result and the project of the dominant mode of production. It is not a mere decoration added to the real world. It is the very heart of this real society’s unreality. In all of its particular manifestations — news, propaganda, advertising, entertainment — the spectacle represents the dominant model of life. It is the omnipresent affirmation of the choices that have already been made in the sphere of production and in the consumption implied by that production. In both form and content the spectacle serves as a total justification of the conditions and goals of the existing system. The spectacle also represents the constant presence of this justification since it monopolizes the majority of the time spent outside the production process."  

~ Guy Debord; The Society of The Spectacle (1.6)



Spectre of The Spectacle


It's a whale of a tale

And it swallows us whole:

Spewing up our worst parts

During low tide onto a shoal.


Lies give rise to a paradox

Lying patient in wait.

Eyes spy news from FOX

Gravitas loses weight.


Yet you follow like a flunky

Lackluster as any lackey.

Roll over boy, play dead;

Butter up our daily cred.


They just cut into your jam —

Protests now won't seal the dam.

So sick and tired of this gore ...

Not going to take it anymore!


Paraphrasing (for dummies):

In every time and place throughout human history, people have been beguiled by outward appearances. Despite how often our wise ones stress that "things aren't always as they seem", the point rarely sinks in under the surface.

Never has this been truer than at present (although this is also ever the case). There is an implicit assumption that if an authority figure says something on television or via Twitter then it can be taken at face value. A subconscious supposition held tacit by the ignorant but articulated by Debord: "What is good appears. What appears is good."

Such willful ignorance of academia, historical causes, science, statistics, etc. are at an all time high because the species is held in thrall by its own fanciful projections. Entire generations have been and continue being born into this mire of deception and delusion.

Few and far between are the earnest seekers who cross-reference and research multiple sources; not merely what they like or wish to hear. Fewer still are those who recognize that our memetic machinery requires nothing short of a thoroughgoing overhaul.

May tomorrow's youth succeed in overthrowing Mammon once and for all!

Echo-Chamber Chant

 "I study social media. Which means that to a first approximation, I watch people argue." 
~ Clay Shirky

Echo-Chamber Chant


(Rhythm: Calypso Andante)


Yelling in a tin can

Imbalanced between yin and yang

One can't be right all of the time

Our two cents aren't worth a dime


Opinions are like sphincters

Too vulnerable to pranksters

If you feel that facts don't matter

Then you're madder than a hatter


Quit craving biased confirmation

It's all just monkey imitation

What we think is nothing major

Stunted thoughts like a teenager


The Fake News has taken over

It's better now to run for cover

There's no wiz behind the curtain

Let's accept Being uncertain


* Repeat it ad absurdum *

Pronounced Machiavellianism

Pronounced Machiavellianism


Swoons the pointy tip of dark triad;
Fell shadow side that alters one's arrow.

Amoral machinations might madden the mighty
Like an upstart principality that shirks legality.

For a Prince should rather be feared than revered.
Thus bend falsified truths, with unflinching impunity.

Dominance writes itself a blank cheque
From morally bankrupt foundations.

An invisible hand moves over the face
Of those whose eyes are always veiled.

Everything comes down to meaning nothing
Within such a bizarro scenario ...

REWIND & REWORD


Suggested Settings:

Sometimess

Sometimess


No it's not a typo
Yes to that extra s!

Must now confess:

Sometimess, sob uncontrollably like an insolent infant.

" ", cheat at romance and gamble good opportunities away.

" ", fret in regret — forgetting getting older.

" ", feel vulnerable or weak; oppressed by what's professed in houses of public acknowledgement.

" ", resent the advent of cement, asphalt, and autos. Pedestrian playing fields aren't level.

" ", realize having had 'it' all along, then smack forehead!

" ", sing actions out loud as if every mundane move was a lyric.

" ", laugh to self about zany harebrained schemes just then conceived.

" ", nickname everyone in sight to the point of becoming obnoxious.  

" ", wish friends from over the years were a lot closer by during hardships.

" ", mind being reminded that this terrestrial husk must eventually be shed.

" ", look forward to crossing over after spending an entire lifetime in relegation.

" ", catch glimpses of that gracious blue yonder beyond any Terran wonder ...

Held as more than human —

Rare specimen (a Lumen).
Descendants' blood? Double Type O!

Metacognition

Metacognition
noun, Psychology.
  • higher-order thinking that enables understanding, analysis, and control of one’s cognitive processes, especially when engaged in learning.


To the A-Gents of Language:

i-Ümlaut hath spoken —

Thy wiles ought betoken

Defiance toward 

Dictatorial decrees.

Trespass across thresholds . . .

Cede thee fours, reform the threes.

Too much recounting; Trump's won!

Zapata's brought down to his knees.


Albeit only an example

Of how sneaky sonants

Such as these

Command Order Cognoscenti

With just a simple sample

Doth ye see forest or trees?

Amongst the bestest trilogies

Was The Tripods

But recall, the Cognosc leaves!


A third act calls for dieresis

And diacritical remarks;

Something for the laggards

(zero sum game full of larks).

Cease those fours, return to threes

Won't they notice it repeats?

Rather doubtful any care

(flatter them for being elites).

Cerebral psych's a breeze . . .

Photos: Scenes from "The Cognosc Departs" episode of The Tripods [BBC 1984-85].

Amisit Musa

"As the Spirit wanes, the Form appears." ~ Charles Bukowski

Amisit Musa

1st Canto

Amused by the Ego
Striving for validation.
Quo vadis?
Self-importance shall follow...

Inspiration grips one rarely;
~ Amisit Musa ~
Trapped within convention
What's the use?

Bemused when the Id
Employs Eros or Thanatos.
Querencia vincit!
Threats of displeasure ring hollow.

Expiration warns one fairly:
~ Amisit Musa ~

Suckered by your Superego
What a ruse!


2nd Canto

Calliope come, bring forth rampaging epics.

Clio's confounded by false history books.

Erato enrapture us in beauty and mercy.

Euterpe entrance us with melodic flutes.

Melpomene mirrors our most tragic moments.

Polymnia's praises are imprinted in hymnals.

Terpsichore traipses around in a tutu.

Thalia thinks this all to be quite droll.

Urania's unaware of anything under asters.

Meanwhile Mnemosyne muses, as only a mother is able.

Perspective Analysis

Perspective Analysis

 

We are not the only witnesses 
Nor numen that wades currents
By riversides and oceans
Within a vast, unnamed expanse ...

Though our heads do dash against these stones here on the shore 

Since we can barely help but to think in contradictions 
Gravely unaware of the true scope of our visions
Forgetting that in the big picture relativity dissolves 

Into the reality that opposites don't in fact oppose
Nor do they actually preside as bi-polar compositions
Clear-cut propositions or unchanging absolutes
It is as always, a question of perspective.

Yet there lies the heart and matter of the mystery at hand: 

That when things lose their strictly human meaning 
They quite naturally regain (so to speak)
Their universal truthfulness within the silent mind of One beholder.

The Show About Nothing

The Show About Nothing


Coasting along during the age of passivity

Most would rather watch than participate in activity

How odd that truth is often stranger than fiction

Yet so many suffer from a rather common affliction:

Our very own lives seem to us dreadfully boring

For we tend to miss a subtle thread underscoring

Everyday events bearing magnitudes of meaning

What's happening now is more than mere preening

Without pain and suffering, happiness is circumvented

As such even they have a place among us, the discontented!

Doctrine of Anatta (No-Self)


Author's Note: For an encyclopedic explanation of "Anatman", refer to: Britannica   


Doctrine of Anatta (No-Self)

- I -
What is the Self?
Where is the Self to be found?
Who is that Self we seek?
Is it dry (this Self)?

Never. Always. It is and yet isn't.
Clever. Foolish. Absolute but relative.
Simultaneous with thought, though not present even once. 
As elusive to one's mind as evasive to our senses.
Dare not pretend to know anything concrete about it.
Don't stand upon authority; assume no final stance.
Dive back into Atlantis. Sink down beneath thy Self...

Flex effort, effort, effort
Lather ~ rinse ~ wash off those stains!
Yes only effort, threefold effort
Can really clean off what remains.

- II -
Hey now, who's that?
Living, going, gone!
Playing hide and go seek
Can't quite put a finger on —

Who's escaping past perception?
Who's perceiving an escape?
Never the same twice for anyone to call it constant.
Dead or dying, Being reborn
During every moment (Bardo gaps).
Hollow and impermanent; still we try to hold on tight.
Hands of haze sweeping the tides 
Unable to clutch a single drop.

So just flow dear Comatose
Like, with, and as the ocean.
Quit pretending at forevers
Void all ego, then just ≈ flow 

Image: Bond of Union by M.C. Escher

We Are Not Our Eidolons

We Are Not Our Eidolons


In an ideal world we would all see clearly into each other's psyches
Whether Cancer, Capricorn, Aries or Libra
Without needing to get too verbal

But personal feelings muddle what might have otherwise been clear

Ah the gifts of hypocrisy in a wayward democracy
Constitution ruptured atop foundational mores
Wherefore such typical tragedy?

Stock responses perfunctory
Adjudication in lover's court
A dismal dreg deemed exemplary

Captivated by the composer's grand symphony, one's broken lens gives false report

<b>⚕</b>

~≈≋≈~
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* Except on Wall of Worthies
whereon rights are retained by respective authors.